


It Gets Under Your Skin

by ashesinyourhair



Series: SPN AU Fragments [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, M/M, Robot Castiel, fragment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:33:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashesinyourhair/pseuds/ashesinyourhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles AU fragment. Dean’s nervous enough about trying to repair Cas’s arm even without the pressure of measuring up to his future self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Gets Under Your Skin

Dean places the scalpel against the skin at the back of Cas’s shoulder. His other hand grips Cas’s busted arm to hold him steady—or maybe just to hold himself steady, considering the machine hasn’t moved a millimeter since Dean told him to “hold still”.

At the moment, that’s the only thing about Cas that isn’t convincingly human. Dean wouldn’t have guessed that what his fingers are digging into wasn’t real muscle if he hadn’t seen the rubbery padding that cushions Cas’s skin from his coltan skeleton. The skin itself looks real because it is: real, imperfect human skin, crafted by the machines via some process Dean’s glad he doesn’t know about. It’s even warm to the touch, which Dean can’t get over, and he can’t decide if it’s just surprising or creepy as all hell.

He drags the blade experimentally across the skin, and a hairline of blood blooms out behind it. Cas doesn’t flinch, not that Dean expected him to. He reminds himself that Cas is a machine, that he can’t feel, not really, that he doesn’t experience pain the same way a human does. It shouldn’t be such a big deal to just press the blade harder and separate the flesh to get at the metal parts he needs to fix. He lifts the scalpel away from the skin and then touches it again. Sucks in a breath.

“Dean.”

The rumble of Cas’s voice makes him jump, but miraculously the blade doesn’t falter. “Don’t do that,” he says, and then sets his jaw, tries to focus on the scalpel and not the skin.

“There’s no reason to be anxious,” Cas says, over his shoulder. “This is a relatively simple repair. You’ve done similar procedures many times.”

“Screw you,” Dean says. “I’m not him. _I’ve_ never done this before.”

Cas says nothing, thankfully, and Dean takes a deep breath, presses the blade in before he can rethink it. The skin parts cleanly, and Dean continues the cut downward at an angle, alongside one of the false muscles concealing the site of the loose connection flagged by Cas’s diagnostics. Then he makes another cut along the upper ridge of Cas’s shoulder blade and joins it to the first, creating a flap he can pull back to get at the problem.

“Can you—” he starts, just as Cas reaches over his own shoulder with his good hand to hold the flap of skin out of the way. “Thanks,” Dean says. Now he can see some of the metal and wires inside Cas’s shoulder, and if he can convince himself that it’s just like working on a radio or a car or something, this should be easy. Yeah.

“You’re doing just fine,” Cas says.

“Why don’t you hold your applause till the end,” Dean snaps. What kind of thing is that for a machine to say? He opens his mouth to make some crack about Cas’s emotion chip, but shuts it again. He’s not wasting any more Trek references on someone who can’t appreciate them.

Once he pushes back the fake muscles, he can clearly see the damage. Thankfully it’s no more than a couple of pulled wires; he can fix that in no time, without having to open Cas up further and test the limits of both his medical and mechanical knowledge. The realization that this is something he can do takes the edge off his nerves, and he sets to work splicing the broken wires.

“You know, maybe you oughta be more careful,” Dean says several minutes later, as he wraps one of the spliced wires with electrical tape. “I know you’re some badass machine, but what would you have done about this if you weren’t running around with us?”

“There are few types of survivable internal damage I can’t repair on my own,” Cas says. “The area you’re working on is one of them, and is… flawed in my generation of this model.”

The way he says “flawed” makes Dean wonder if Cas is ashamed of it; then he remembers—machine.

“If I were in the field and unable to reach a repair facility,” Cas continues, “I would seek out another of my kind for assistance, and attempt to conceal my malfunctioning until then. Failing that, I would likely have to abort my mission.”

“All over a wrenched shoulder,” Dean muses. He reconnects the repaired wire to its terminal. “Is this one good, can you tell?”

Cas pauses. “Yes, it seems to be,” he says.

“Good.” Dean moves on to the second wire.

“Being able to pass for human is of the utmost importance,” Cas says. “It’s the reason my kind were created. If I can’t do that, I have no purpose.”

“Must be a relief, then, not having to worry about that with us,” Dean says. He expects Cas to respond that he can’t feel relief, or the need for it in the first place. But Cas doesn’t say anything.

Dean clears his throat awkwardly and decides to focus on finishing the repairs instead of making more small talk. He only speaks to check with Cas that the second wire is good before closing him back up, stitching the incision closed and taping gauze over it. Cas regards the bandages with what looks like mild annoyance, but he seems satisfied with the regained function in his arm.

Dean puts away his tools while Cas dresses, and is gathering up the surgical equipment that needs resanitizing—never mind that Cas is probably immune to everything anyway—when Cas appears in front of him, still buttoning his shirt.

“My fine motor control is comparable to before my injury,” he announces. “Thank you, Dean.”

“No problem.” Dean shrugs. “Not too shabby for a first time, I guess.”

“You did very well. As I knew you would.”

Dean drops the scalpel into the surgical pan on top of a few bloodstained cotton balls. “Look,” he says. “You gotta stop putting on _me_ what future-me can do. I’m not that guy yet. Not sure I ever want to be. Just because you trust him, you can count on him for whatever… doesn’t mean I deserve that. I’m not him,” he says, for what feels like the hundredth time.

Cas stops in the middle of adjusting his tie, leaving it too loose and flipped around the wrong way, and fixes Dean with one of those piercing looks that always makes him worry that Terminators can read minds. It’s a struggle not to break the gaze, but he’ll be damned if he’s gonna let a machine fluster him.

“You’re not him,” Cas says, after too long a moment. “But he was once you.”

And with that he turns, picks up his trenchcoat and shrugs into it, and leaves Dean clutching the surgical pan in a near death grip, a whole future looming vast and intimidating before him.

Goddamn machines.

**Author's Note:**

> [Cross-posted to tumblr.](http://asheswrites.tumblr.com/post/54050604546/it-gets-under-your-skin)


End file.
